


Divided Loyalties

by AZGirl



Series: Musketeers - Season 1 [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e04 The Good Soldier, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/pseuds/AZGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis knows that his loyalties weren’t the only ones being divided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divided Loyalties

**Author's Note:**

> My quest to write a tag for each episode continues…

**ooooooo**

_“There’s a question of loyalty.” – D’Artagnan to Constance, 1.04 The Good Soldier._

ooooooo 

“I want to apologize,” d’Artagnan abruptly said as he sat down across the table from him. 

“For what?” Aramis replied feeling genuinely puzzled. 

“I agreed to not turn Marsac in and helped you conceal him, but did not support you as I should have when you were seeking the truth out about Savoy.” The young Gascon looked down at his clasped hands briefly before meeting his eyes. “You are my friend and I let you down. I beg your forgiveness.” 

Aramis reached for a bottle of wine and poured some out or the both of them. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, d’Artagnan. It was an impossible situation. Your loyalties were being divided amongst many: me, our friends, Tréville, your own beliefs, and even Madame Bonacieux.” Aramis watched a look of guilt flash over his friend’s face as he continued. “Despite that, you managed to acquit yourself well. You helped to save the Duchess’s life and I finally have the truth of what happened.” 

His young friend’s brow furrowed. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t disappointed or even a little angry with us.” 

Aramis toyed with his cup of wine for a moment before taking a drink. “You’re right. I can’t tell you that, but I do understand. Let me assure you that yours weren’t the only loyalties being divided.” 

D’Artagnan looked thoughtful for a moment before eventually nodding at the truth of that last statement. 

Aramis couldn’t help the humorless chuckle that then escaped his lips at a sudden, morose thought he’d had. His companion stared at him, obviously wondering, but hesitant to ask about his outburst. 

Having decided that d’Artagnan would benefit more from the explanation than the pain it would cause himself, he said, “Marsac’s return and subsequent death served to help remind me of one of the most important things about being a soldier…” He trailed off suddenly caught up in a mix of memories from Savoy and the shooting of a man who had once saved his life. 

A touch to his forearm brought him back to the present; he acknowledged the act with a slight smile. D’Artagnan nodded once in return as he straightened in his seat. 

“Soldiers must follow orders, no matter where they may lead us even if, at the end of the road, death awaits you, your brothers-in-arms, or those under your command.” 

D’Artagnan’s eyes widen in realization of what Aramis is not saying. He hopes that the new insight does not diminish the young recruit’s respect for their captain, but he suspects it will only serve to increase his admiration for Tréville and their chosen profession. 

He finishes his wine and pours himself another glass, topping off d’Artagnan’s at the same time. 

“I never did thank you for helping me to hide Marsac,” he blurts, not wanting to think too much about that aspect before asking what he really wants to know. “Has Madame Bonacieux forgiven you your transgressions yet?” 

D’Artagnan, sounding uncertain, says, “I think so.” 

Smiling, he makes a broad gesture with his hand as he declares, “You see? I told you she likes you.”

“She’s married,” the Gascon automatically responds, and Aramis can’t help but laugh at the other man’s continued denial of his feelings. 

A half-heated glare is thrown his way as d’Artagnan gets up from the table. “I must go,” he announces before placing his palms flat on the table and leans on them. “I am sorry about Marsac, but Aramis…” 

He looks up to see a warm, open expression on the other man’s face. 

“I am grateful you are alive.” 

It is clear to him that d’Artagnan is referencing more than just his survival of the shoot-out with Marsac. 

As he watches his young friend leave, he whispers, “Me too.” 

And means it. 

ooooooo 

_The end._

**ooooooo**

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who has noticed or is interested, I’m still working on a tag to 1.02, Sleight of Hand, which has decided to take on a life of its own. 
> 
> No beta. Originally posted on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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